No smile this time, just a straight look that Jenny

couldn't read at all. She suddenly wished he would go. He was tense and preoccupied, and his mood was making her edgy.

As if he could read her mind, David scraped his chair back and stood up. "Fm not good company right now," he said. "I'll see you, Jenny." Then he hurried out of the diner like someone late for a crucial appointment.

Jenny stared at the remains of her burger and sighed. Why had he acted so strangely? Was it just because he was upset about Diana? Or did he secretly think she had heard that shout? Did he agree with her -- that she'd wasted time yelling at him on the rimrocks that night, time that could have been spent helping Diana? After all, he'd asked what she thought of Diana. Did he honestly believe she might be glad the girl was lying in a coma? If he did, then he didn't know her very well. But she didn't know him, either.

After a few more minutes, Jenny paid for her meal and headed for home. She couldn't avoid seeing the rimrocks on her way -- half of them turned a brilliant red again -- and that didn't help her mood any. By the time she pulled up to the house, she was wishing desperately that she'd gone with her parents. What was the big deal about packing one small suitcase? And so what if they missed the painters? They could live with a salmon pink living room for a little while longer.

Jenny got out of the car and kicked a couple of small rocks to the edge of the driveway. "Stop wal-

lowing in self-pity," she said out loud. "It's truly disgusting." It was also easier said than done, and her shoulders were still slumping as she climbed the steps to the flagstone porch. Her head was down, too, so when she went up the last step, she didn't see the basket of flowers until it brushed against her hair.

It was hanging from one of the curly pieces of wrought-iron attached to the porch pillars. They were just right for hanging flowerpots, and Jenny's mother had been talking about getting some. Now she wouldn't have to.

Jenny untangled a strand of hair and looked at the basket. It was filled to overflowing with a fantastic assortment of flowers, most of which she'd seen growing by the side of the road or in fields. Driving by them in a car, they hadn't been that impressive, but massed together in the basket, they made one of the most beautiful bouquets she'd ever seen.

She reached up and poked around in the flowers for a card, thinking it might be from the Welcome Wagon, or maybe from the real estate agent who'd sold them the house. The last agent had given them discount coupons to the local stores; Jenny thought the flowers were much nicer.

There was no card, though. And there was no pot inside the basket, which was odd. The flowers had been put in without any dirt at all, and some of them were already starting to wilt.